“teach me how,” sehun says as jongin shoots a flaming arrow into a nearby tree.  at 17 years of age, jongin has unleashed his full potential—an ignis master in his own right.

jongin glances back at him skeptically.  “i don’t know if it’s the same with ice.”

“that’s okay.  just teach me how.”  in truth, sehun has felt a strange twist in his lower abdomen around jongin lately, something he fears is lust, and he wants jongin to grab hold of him and show him how.  “please?”

hard as he tries, jongin cannot refuse the face sehun is pulling, and he hands over the weaponry.  “be careful.”

“help me,” whines sehun, and jongin all but crumbles to the dirt.  he obliges, holding sehun’s hands to the bow, his warm fingers a stark contrast to sehun’s chilled skin.  a light shiver takes hold of him for the slightest of moments, but it’s strange, he thinks, how comforting the cold feels to his touch.

jongin’s breath comes in hot puffs on the junction of sehun’s neck and shoulder, and sehun inhales sharply at this, his eyelids beginning to droop with his exhale.

it doesn’t occur to jongin that they have been standing in position for several moments until his grip starts to loosen.  “sehun?” he whispers, and he stifles a laugh at the way sehun jerks to attention, his eyes snapping open.

“what?  right, sorry.”  and as jongin pulls the string back, sehun’s breaths stop.

“concentrate on the arrow, and i suppose for you, you should imagine how it feels to blow on the tip.”

it isn’t difficult for sehun to imagine blowing on the tip of something else that he shouldn’t be blowing, and he almost loses his grip at the thought.  “i—i don’t think i can do it.”

jongin’s palms are clamming, and he readjusts his hold, practically pressing the front of his body against the back of sehun’s in the process.  he hopes sehun doesn’t notice how much he is perspiring, but he especially hopes he doesn’t notice what is now protruding against the back of sehun’s thigh.

“you can.  just concentrate.”  he is sure there is fire in his bloodstream, afraid that sehun can sense the heat.

“i am.”  and sehun tries, tries with all his might, but jongin is boiling and pushed up against him; the last thing on his mind is creating ice out of thin air.  he sighs and drops his arms.  “maybe we should try again next time.”

“teach me how.”

jongin flinches.  he should’ve known three days was too long to hide out, that sehun would sneak out with ease.  sehun is stealth and quick, and it should not surprise him when the fire on his arrow is blown out.

“you’re still recovering from burns,” jongin says halfheartedly.

with something of a frown, sehun squirms his way into the space between jongin and the bow, grasps at the waist of jongin’s shirt.  “teach me how.”

before he can come to his senses, jongin nods and puts sehun in position, breath hitching at the specks of black he catches in sehun’s eyes.

sehun does concentrate this time, focuses his glare on the point of the arrow, focuses until he is made of ice and only ice, focuses until frost forms on the arrow and branches into jagged edges.  he lets jongin assist him in releasing the arrow, and they stare in amazement as it pierces straight through a branch, bodies motionless as they watch it fall to its death.  jongin’s hold on him is firm, and it is not something sehun wishes to remove himself from—the heat of jongin’s skin almost singeing his own, but jongin clears his throat then.

“sehun, there’s...”

sehun turns to look at him, and he follows jongin’s gaze to see steam rise from where their skin meets.  he wonders if he should move away, but he finds himself stilling.  whether he should be amused or embarrassed at the sight, he is not certain, but his eyes meet jongin’s, whose irises have darkened to match the dirt.  what sehun sees is not amusement, nor is it embarrassment—what he sees as jongin’s breaths become harsher, as his mouth opens in just the slightest and his blinking increases in rapidity, is realization.